


Fire and Devastation

by theprydonian_archivist



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Episode: s03e12 The Sound of Drums, M/M, Mind Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Year That Never Was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-02
Updated: 2008-03-02
Packaged: 2018-07-15 00:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7198982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprydonian_archivist/pseuds/theprydonian_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"These are the images from Tokyo, approximately 34 minutes ago. So sorry you couldn't be there for the live show, but I thought you'd prefer a private viewing."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire and Devastation

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Prydonian](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Prydonian). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [The Prydonian collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/theprydonian/profile).

The Doctor's small, windowless cell is deep within the centre of the Valiant, carefully isolated from everything else. Shackled to the wall, arms above his head, he barely looks up when the Master walks in, and when he does, his eyes are dull and cold, and that just won't do at all. 

"I have something I think you're going to want to see," the Master says, rubbing his gloved hands together with anticipation. "Or, at least, something that _I_ want you to see. But you might need your strength for this, I'm afraid." He pulls the laser screwdriver from his suit pocket, pressing it to his lips and pretending to hesitate for a split-second before taking aim, and then the Doctor is thrashing and convulsing against the wall, his youth returning to him. All the times the Master has done this to him, ageing him back and forth in a matter of seconds, and the Doctor still screams every time. It's a sound the Master doubts he'll ever get tired of. 

While the Doctor leans his head back against the wall, shuddering and gasping for breath, another flick of the controls on the Master's screwdriver brings down a large, flat-panel screen on the opposite wall. 

"These are the images from Tokyo, approximately 34 minutes ago. So sorry you couldn't be there for the live show, but I thought you'd prefer a private viewing." 

Oh, it was so much fun to watch the destruction all over again, but it was even more fun to watch the Doctor and his anguished reaction. This had been the right thing to do, the Master knew, instead of forcing the Doctor to watch out on the bridge with everyone else.

With a casual flick of the buttons, the Master switches from camera to camera, lingering for a few moments on the images of destruction in each city. "Osaka. Nagoya. Kita-kyushu. Kyoto. Oooh, look at those World Heritage Sites burn, Doctor. Such a beautiful sight, isn't it? Temples and palaces and gardens and women and children, all burning." 

And oh, there it is. The pain washing across the Doctor's face. The burn of righteous anger in the Doctor's eyes. That's what had been missing these last few weeks. And, oh, that expression of anger and rage and hate -- it sends a shiver straight down the Master's spine right to his cock. 

"You can still put an end to all this, you know." The Doctor says in a tight, quiet voice. The Master nearly laughs. It's been almost three months since he took control of the Valiant -- were they still going to play this game?

"Yes, yes, yes, I turn off the paradox machine, set everything back to normal and life goes on its merry way." He takes a step forward, so that he's inches away from the Doctor. "Somehow, I don't think so." 

"I would still be your prisoner," the Doctor says. He is close enough to him now that he can feel the warmth of his breath against his face. 

"Oh you're so _noble_ , Doctor," he says, practically breathing in the Doctor's ear, and oh if he isn't pleased by the way the Doctor flinches, trying to turn his head away. He takes a step or two back so he can look the Doctor in the eyes again. "Sacrificing yourself for your precious humans. But why would I ever accept your generous _deal_ ," he lets his voice drip with scorn, "when I've already got everything I want?" 

He slides a hand down his suit and over the front of his trousers, rubbing himself through the fabric. The Doctor, he's extremely pleased to notice, seems unable to take his eyes off the path of the Master's hand. Behind him he can hear the screams and cries from the time-delayed video feed from Japan, echoing in his head in perfect time to the drums, and in front of him: The Doctor, chained to the wall, all rage and determination but more than a little bit of fear, yes, and it is so so very close to being perfect. 

Very slowly, his gloved hands start undoing the fastening on his trousers. The Doctor looks rather panicked, and it's a wonderful sight. "W-What are you doing?" the Doctor asks, equal parts revulsion and terror and, just possibly, hope. 

"Enjoying my victory," the Master says with a grin. His hands finally manage to free himself from his trousers and he strokes himself slowly, from base to tip. 

"It's the drums that are making you do this," the Doctor is saying, seeming to struggle with the effort of pulling his eyes up to the Master's face. "I've told you, I can help." 

"Ohhhh, I bet you want to help, don't you, Doctor?" His voice comes out low and throaty, and his fingers grip himself tighter. "You want to get into my mind. But just admit it, Doctor, it's not because you want to _help_ \-- it's because you're so fucking desperate to feel the touch of another Time Lord in your mind." 

He takes a step forward and is extremely disappointed when the Doctor shrinks back slightly instead of arching towards him. But he is shackled to the wall and there is no where for him to go. No way for him to run away. 

The Master's gloved hand speeds up slightly, fingers spreading the small amount of precome already dripping from the head of his cock. The Doctor's eyes flicker downwards for just the briefest moment, and the Master can't help the smile that spreads across his face. 

"I'll tell you what, though. Since I'm feeling particularly magnanimous today, maybe I'll give you a little taste of what it is you want, hmmm Doctor?" Without slowing the rhythm of his hand on his cock, he brings his other hand to his mouth, pulling the glove off with his teeth. And then, before the Doctor can quite figure out what's about to happen, he presses two fingers to the Doctor's right temple. 

And oh, it is glorious. He floods the Doctor's mind with images of destruction, of the wrenching screams of the inhabitants of Japan as they're slaughtered by the Toclafane, the Jones family begging as they watch from the deck of the Valiant. All the while he's staring into the Doctor's eyes, wide and full of anguish. And then he mentally lashes out at the Doctor's pleasure centres, setting every nerve ending on fire, and the Doctor groans and throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut tight. 

Mentally, the Master forces the Doctor to open his eyes, and the desire and the pain and the anger reflected in them is nearly enough to send the Master over the edge. His strokes are becoming faster and shorter, and the Doctor is arching towards him now, body rebelling against its owner's control. The Master can feel the Doctor's thoughts, half repulsed by his body's betrayal, and half already too far gone to care about anything other than his desperate need to be touched. It's the best thing the Master's felt all day, and it's been a day of so many wonderful things.

He presses his lips hard against the Doctor's, angrily, working his mouth open and forcing his tongue inside. At the same moment, he pushes forward telepathically, breaking down barriers in the Doctor's mind, looking, searching for that one memory in particular: Gallifrey burning, but it's too tightly locked away and the Doctor is struggling against him mentally but still kissing him back hungrily, so he grabs another image out of the Doctor's mind instead: the Racnoss, destroyed by flood and flames, and he grins against the Doctor's mouth because that had been him, too; him and the Doctor, destroying an entire race, _together_ , and even better, the Doctor had _enjoyed_ it and it's too too much for him now and the Doctor is moaning into his mouth as the Master comes, fire and flames and the Doctor burning behind his eyes. 

He takes a step back, wiping his gloved hand on the Doctor's jacket and looking at where he has left wet streaks of come on the Doctor's trousers. He takes a breath and tucks himself back into his trousers, buttoning himself back up again before looking up at the Doctor's face. 

The Doctor's chest is heaving, his breath coming in short gasps, and he looks like he might just be sick. But the Master can see the outline of the Doctor's erection, straining his trousers, can still feel the Doctor's mind, desperate and needy. He laughs, because now it _is_ perfect.

"I've just slaughtered a hundred and twenty million people today, Doctor, and here you are, hard and desperate for me to fuck you." He laughs, sharply. "Honestly, Doctor, what does that say?" At the Doctor's wide-eyed expression, he reaches out a gloved finger, still slightly sticky and wet with his come, and traces a line down the Doctor's cheek. "Oooh, don't worry Doctor. I'm sure you feel guilty enough for the both of us." 

Still grinning, he turns and walk out the door, not sparing the Doctor a backwards glance.


End file.
